Of Heartbreak and Confessions
by SweetCarnation
Summary: "I know this is not the best situation in the world: I missed a heart for about five years and became quite insensible towards other's feelings. But can you trust me when I tell you that I'm sorry for hurting you, Sophie?" And in a mere whisper, he muttered in her hair, "I love you." (Can you mend a broken heart? Sophie/Howl, book-verse, one-shot)


**This was part of the In Which Howl Gets to Sophie's Heart, but I felt I wanted it to stand alone: because the plot got way too much out of hand and because it is also the longest piece of writing I ever created. **

**I put so much effort into this you can't believe.**

**Besides, this story is too long for the Get to Sophie's Heart ficlets (each around 2,000 words and this one's around 14,000 words…)**

**I'm sorry if it disappoints anyone, but know that I'll update more frequently the other story, so please hang on! **

**Annnnnnnnnd….yeah?**

**Disclaimer: No own, me no Miyazaki or Jones. Me humble person. Thank you.**

**Of Heartbreak and Confessions**

_There is always a moment where we doubt ourselves. _

_When we have the time to think, we do, and we end up hesitating_

_Yet why do we still stand by their side?_

…_x…_

Sophie was wrinkling.

_That's not a good sign, _Calcifer had mused.

In fact, this meant trouble.

After the Witch of the Waste was defeated, days became calmer in the castle. The flowers in the new meadow flourished thanks to Sophie's tender care (except when she was put in a foul mood by Howl's arrogance or obviousness, careful to an attack of weed killer!) and sold like hotcakes, Ingary's women gushing over the pretty plants, their deep and eccentric colors and their soft smell.

The business grew, every day bringing new clients as well as the regulars to the flower shop. Whenever it was too fully packed for one person to handle, Michael lent a hand to Sophie, but his good-natured help often turned to clumsiness, as the young teen was often distracted by thoughts of his Lett– Martha, and more often than not, Sophie had to take care of all clients by herself, sometimes introducing magic in the air by a whisper to make the clients more patient and give her a break.

Speaking of magic, Sophie actually asked Howl numerous times for him to train her. Still a slither-outer and not used to this kind of demand, the wizard had managed to slip from this responsibility, pretending to have an important reunion with the King, or just being too tired and telling her to read the books before going to practice.

This was obviously a cheap way of gaining time, as all books in Howl's castle consisted of his notes when he was at the Academy of Wizardry, some indecipherable so much the writing was scrawled, slanted and smeared with spots of ink, the pages old and yellow, almost rusty, as if they spent a good bath in the water before they were picked up and dried magically. Sophie asked the books to straighten themselves up and regain their pride as the notes of the most powerful wizard of Ingary, but they refused to heed her command, Howl's magic remains probably blocking the spell she tried to cast on them.

As such, Sophie had considered asking Calcifer for help, but since the fire demon was spending most of his day out, enjoying his regained freedom to the fullest, she decided not to bother him anymore and Sophie turned to Mrs. Fairfax and Lettie.

Well, more to Mrs. Fairfax than Lettie, because the latter had recently become Ben Sulliman's new apprentice. It was one of the good drawbacks from the Witch, as the curse she put on the once half-dog, human-spirited, man permitted him to meet Lettie Hatter and to transform back to his human self.

Although Sophie was worried about her younger sister, she trusted wizard Sulliman with her safety enough, having seen how protective of her he seemed when he thought that Howl would make Lettie fall in love with him, only to break her heart later and make her as miserable as all his previous loves. Sulliman, in his dog form, had barked so hard and run so fast, he managed to give Old Sophie her a run for her money, straining her poor old heart, who suffered from its recent attack thanks to the scary scarecrow and its ripped sleeves, following the castle like a haunted soul, scary and dark, unknown and shadowy; horrifying.

As was said, Sophie went to Anabelle Fairfax's house, to ask the old witch to teach her how to handle her powers and not have to mind her words anymore (a casually said sentence and you were covered in spider webs, the creatures Sophie disliked the most, after scary limp scarecrows and evil fire demon taking the shape of a Welsh woman). But unfortunately for her, Sophie found someone else waiting in the cosy, honey-scented living room.

Fanny.

When the older woman found the stunned gaze of her eldest stepdaughter, she elegantly placed the cup of tea down before jumping on Sophie to hug her tightly. She began weeping, relieved that she the red-gold haired woman came to see her, pushed her eldest on the couch, just by her side, and began chatting amiably, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. Fanny went on all casual subjects of life, such as How was the darling Michael? How was life in general? Was she well-taken care of? – "I_ hope your job as a cleaning lady is over now, honey" – _before asking Sophie the final question, "Are you happy?"

This question haunted her.

It was easy to answer though: were you happy? Yes. No.

But in life, the simple things proved to be the most complicated, and vice-versa.

In normal circumstances, Sophie would have answered yes without any hesitation, but the fact that it was evening and the flower shop empty left her plenty of time to ponder the matter. And the more she thought, the more Sophie began worrying about her future, the same one she once thought was bleak and bland, doomed to normality and failure as she was the eldest of three.

Was she happy?

It could be easy to say yes: open your mouth, whisper the three-lettered word of doom, and it was over.

See? Easy!

But this wasn't reality; it wasn't the truth.

All in all, Sophie was living in a moving castle with the most friendly and loyal boy imaginable, a nice, albeit kind of rude if you didn't know him well, fire demon, who seemed to have developed a soft spot for Howl and Sophie's family, including Michael in the lot, and one of the most, if not _the _most, powerful wizards, more vain than a peacock, with the ability to slither-out of any kind of weird situations, who has been chased down by one of his previous lovers to the point he had almost died when she managed to grasp his heart (literally) and who affirmed that they 'ought to live happily ever after'.

But in order to achieve this, one had to be truly happy.

And Sophie believed she was mildly happy (this was also the reason she hadn't answered yes to Fanny's question, believing a half-truth to be as bad as a complete lie).

True, she had discovered another facet of her personality: the more on-going, social and joyful Sophie. She was well-fed, clothed and had a nice job, which made her happy to tend to flowers and help young ladies find flowers, or young beaus look for a bouquet to charm their ladies. After struggling for years in the financial matter that was the Hatter business, Sophie was finally free from the burden when it was transformed into the flower shop.

That was what was quite easy to see.

Although everything seemed fine outside, deep inside of Sophie, doubt's ugly head roared fiercely. Every day, when the pretty women in the shop started gossiping about how Howl was such an enchanting wizard and how they had never lost faith that, someday, he would finally settle down with, hopefully, one of them, Sophie wanted to shout at them that he had promised _her _a happily ever after. Just like the fairy tales of her childhood.

Fairy tales…

They included gorgeous princesses and well-educated and handsome princes, didn't they? The princesses were often mistreated by their stepmothers, forced to become the cleaning ladies. But then, a by miracle, the prince would meet and fall in love with the fair princess, for her strength, her beauty, her smile.

Albeit the fair-lady started out miserably, and at once in the story, the reader thinks that the evil stepsisters/stepmothers would win, love prevailed. It embellished the princesses' interior beauty (kindness, love, compassion and courage) and showed the evil doers' awful traits and heart tainted by greed, desire (sometimes considered as lust) and need for attention.

In the end, the princesses lived happily ever after, and the evil members of her stepfamily were punished for their act, their trying to ruin the fair-lady's future.

And when Sophie attempted to make a comparison between herself, the princesses and their happily ever afters, she came to a dreadful conclusion;

Howl would never be happy with her, and neither would she be with him.

After all, the only resemblance between her and those fairy tales princesses were the fact that they once used to be cleaning ladies and that they bore so much love for their prince it ended up saving them.

And that was it.

Nevertheless, Sophie was grateful she had not been mistreated neither by her stepmother and neither by her little stepsister. True, the evil Witch of the Waste had tried to fiddle with her life, but at the time, Sophie thought of her curse as more befitting of her than harmful. Of course, she had met the handsome (vain-as-a-peacock) prince (wizard), but she soon discovered he had a nasty trait of slipping from the situations he knew he couldn't handle, by simple cowardice and hobbit. He was still a childish man, not ready for something as time-devouring, heart-consuming and steadiness-needing as love.

Howl had indeed met the fair princess, but what was the point, if said princess considered herself to be old, pale and bland? What was the point of loving him and wishing for her happily ever after if Howl's conception of happiness was defined as 'to be free and live your life to the fullest'?

What was the point of forcing the love of a cleaning lady on a childish wizard, who needed his freedom to live?

The possibility of Howl becoming miserable because she had tried to impose her feelings in the matter of living happily ever after, or any matter, scared the joy out of Sophie's life. Those negative thoughts had become recurrent, always brooding in a dark part of her mind when the Fanny's question resurfaced, floating near the edges of her consciousness and unconsciousness.

Sophie was brooding, mulling over those thoughts, just like she used to on the matter of her being the eldest of three and being directly linked to failure. And this self-denial, this doubt on her worth to Howl's happiness had begun to take effect, affecting Sophie's sleep by giving her horrible nightmares, where sometimes Howl left her (_"Why would I need a pushy, clingy cleaning lady giving me something as trivial and shackling as love? Go!"_), or simply disappeared from her life, not even leaving a single note to explain the departure.

All in all, Sophie's doubts made the curse return slowly, but surely. About a fortnight after her visit to Mrs. Fairfax and her meeting with Fanny, the aging-spell began scurrying, not shy anymore, and took more amplitude, spreading old wrinkles on Sophie's hands and face (under the form of bags under her dimmed eyes), splashing her red-gold hair with silvery gray, then white, strands, thinning her form until the dress she wore were too baggy for comfort, and bending ever-so-slightly her spine, giving her the look of a woman in her well in her forties.

And Howl took the change in his beloved with fright.

He had thought at first that maybe it was a remain of the Witch's curse, and that it would fade naturally, believing Sophie's self-confidence to be enough to crush the feeble strands of the Witch's magic left in her, but Howl was surprisingly wrong. He began worrying even more when Sophie asked to not sleep in his bed anymore, taking a spare mattress in front of Calcifer's old hearth and resting there.

…_x…_

_What's wrong?_

_What is going on in your head?_

…_x…_

Howl had felt hurt; Sophie ignored him most of the time. Instead of greeting him with a heart-melting smile and a carefree attitude, Sophie merely nodded her head in his direction to acknowledge the fact he had come home, before returning to her activities. She would still talk to Michael or Calcifer, but when it came to him, she refused to speak more than a few words. What was the last straw and pushed the hurt to the extreme was her demand to not sleep in his bed anymore.

All the frustration, the self-denial, the anger, the hurt and the loneliness both Sophie and Howl felt on the current situation – Sophie hiding her vulnerability and still pondering what actions she could take to ensure Howl's happiness, while _he _vented out his anger on his spells, fervently working and forgetting to take care of the castle, his form bending sadly over the place where Sophie's body once rested in his bed, his heart-aching for her presence and her attention, if only for a moment – lead to a great confrontation where feelings were revealed, loneliness growing and spreading like a disease, filling every shadow, every corner and crook of Howl and Sophie's heart with hurt and despair, the harsh words its foundation to keep going and going and–

_hurting._

"Sophie, dearest, answer me! What is it that's bothering you?" he had exclaimed quite sadly, yet his voice was tainted by a small splash of anger, not quite roaring, but undeveloped, waiting to be released in an instant.

"Nothing." Those were the kind of answers she gave: one-worded sentences. And this was driving him crazy!

He had had enough now!

Howl marched towards Sophie, his hands gripping her arms and spinning her around (she was arranging a bouquet of flowers) to face him. He pushed her against the counter, his whole body taking an intimidating posture, and Howl grasped her shoulders, shaking her slightly with despairing need of her attention, "It's NOT nothing! If that was the case, I'd still be living with a happy, carefree, pushy and cleanliness-loving woman! Botheration! Can't you understand that I'll always stand by your side, Sophie? Can't you trust me?"

Sophie felt her angered being picked at, and she answered him back, eyes narrowing dangerously and throwing a hard glare at his close face, his breath fanning over her nose and his fingers dinging in her dress and her arms, showing the strength the slender digits were capable of. She brought her hands up, pushing feebly against his chest to bring more distance between them and give an effect to her words. "Well you sure are doing a bad job at showing you'll stay by my side! After all, you're _always _on those blasted reunions with the King, or you're too tired to teach me magic, and then you ask what's wrong? You ask me to trust you? What would you _know _of me? You're never here! And besides, you haven't bothered to trust me with your past, so why should I trust you with my present?"

His eyebrows ticked dangerously, a vein appearing on his neck, as Howl shouted back, pressing Sophie against him and sandwiching her with the counter's help. "_I'm never here? _Woman, what matter are you talking about? Even if I do absent myself quite a lot, at least I try to make the time I spend with you enjoyable, unlike a gray mouse hiding behind her flowers and clinging to a silent treatment and who doesn't even look like she meant that she loved me! And if you wanted to know about my past, you just had to be your pushy self, Miss Nose. Always sneaking and messing up my stuff."

"You…you…" she sputtered in fury, her rage barely contained. How _dare_ he bring up her previous actions as an old woman? That cad was…he was… "Maybe I haven't sneaked because I know you care about this and that you'll get hurt. Haven't you thought of it this way, you jerk?"

He let her go, shoulders dropping significantly, shooting the flowers besides her head a raging glare (they had effortlessly received the care she seemed to give so readily, while he had to bring extreme measures to make her acknowledge him in more than a simple nod of her head). "Oh," he began mockingly, "so _now _you care? You care enough to not snoop in my past because you don't want me to get hurt and yet–" he looked directly in her blazing eyes, his own darkened to a deep, almost black, green shade of hurt, irony and misery, "–yet you still don't care enough to show me at least a speck of consideration. What a double-game, Sophie!" he deliberately sneered, wanting her to feel the same hurt he was, wanting her to understand how his heart was crumbling, shy of the love and attention he demanded from her.

His mouth had transformed into an ugly rictus, looking more like a snarl than an ironic smile. Sophie had long slid down from the counter, his body no longer trapping her form, and she massaged the joint sections of her shoulders and arms, where his fingers had gripped her and probably left a nasty bruise (but of that, she wasn't sure, her sleeves and dress covering almost all her arms and most of her collarbone). Having been hurt by his accusations, Sophie only murmured a "I always cared, but I didn't want to smother your freedom with my puny feelings," before running for the stairs, turning quickly the knob green side up, and leaving the moving castle for Market Chipping, the door slamming hard on her blackened form, the evening having long left place to the night.

All Howl could remember after Sophie left were the tears in her eyes when she ran, his form dropping down on the ground, his backside meeting harshly the solid wooden floor with his arms between his outstretched legs and his hands splashed lifelessly on the ground, his head dropping as if his soul had been sucked, and his heart breaking in tiny pieces, infinite shards sharper and thinner than glass, spreading a horrible sound of defeat and misery, a wail more pitiful to anyone than a baby's hurt cries.

After moments, Howl recalled warmth dropping softly on his hands, sliding down his knuckles and fingers, before tainting the wood of the floor a shade darker. He also made the link between the warmth on his fingers, and the liquid substance running down his cheeks in watery droplets, warm and salty and symbol of his sadness, his loneliness.

_Tears…_

And Howl cried, sobs wracking his whole body and soul – the hurt leaving the vessel that was his now broken-heart, materializing in salty droplets of water – and his wails echoed in the empty room, its shadows having seemingly grown larger and stronger and thicker, enveloping him in an impenetrable darkness of sadness, frailty, tiredness and pain.

…_x…_

_Inside of me, I have realized something._

_There was nothing keeping me by his side._

_He didn't need my love; he was too carefree for that._

_And I doubted myself too much to match him._

_Why do we stand by their side?_

_It should be changed to: __**do we **__stand by their side?_

…_x…_

Calcifer and Michael had a nice day. They had spent their weekly allowance (their being Michael's, of course) and bought many pastries from Césari's, eating and joking in Martha's company about the frivolity and stupidity of the many rumors running around. Some jokes were cornier than the other, but all in all, the day was good and happy; unlike what was waiting for them in the moving castle.

Still in a goofy mood, they entered in the place, the door opening on a dark night, and the sight of the room astonished them, their breath knocked away.

Howl was sitting on the ground, his palms over his face and the tip of his fingers digging harshly into his fair hair, which managed to spill down, curling slightly on the ends. His shoulder were dropped low, shaking spasmodically and wracking his whole body, making him shudder; his spine had curled so much he was leaning dangerously close over his knees, his legs bent midway inwardly. Michael had sworn he even heard a tiny wail and remaining sob escape from Howl's curled up form, but he stayed silent, unaware of how to react to the broken-down wizard, usually so calm and composed – sure of himself.

All around him, a thick mist shrouded the room, giving the furniture a ghostly and eerie appearance. The natural shadows had elongated to cruel swirls of black, moving constantly as if animated and sentient, the origin of the darkness coming directly from the miserable wizard. The air was not helping, creating a suffocating atmosphere of misery, pain and sorrow, almost crushing the optimism and bliss out of fire demon and young teen.

It felt depressing: as if someone sucked out all the sunshine and love out of the castle before replacing it with a thick aura of grim and disaster, impenetrable and awful.

And worse, all available surfaces were covered in the most malodorous and darkest slime Calcifer had ever seen.

Albeit very surprised, the fire demon recovered first, before shouting out, "What in the world? Howl!" The demon was zipping left and right, up and down, trying to disperse the mist with his light to let Michael adventure himself closer to the wizard. "What happened to this place; it looks even worse than when that blasted Witch came!"

Howl did not respond, his whole form shivering and jerking forward some more. Calcifer shot a questioning look to the young apprentice, who only shrugged, not really knowing how to handle his teacher at the moment. Instead, he went up the stairs to call Sophie; maybe she knew what happened…

He first knocked on Howl's bedroom, unaware that Sophie was not sleeping there anymore for about four-five days, and when no one answered, Michael took the liberty of entering the cluttered room, lighting up a candle with a spell to make his way in. He called Sophie's name softly two or three times, in case she was sleeping (but that seemed highly unlikely; Sophie always waited for him and Calcifer to come home, ensuring they were proper sober and fed before going for bed), but when nothing shifted or made a noise, Michael came out.

He went through every room, even his own, asking for Sophie, but it was futile; she seemed to have volatilized! Young Michael threw a tracking spell, having taken Sophie's hat from the hat stand in the hallway, just besides the railing of the stairs, and waited a while, but when his charm came back, it was empty; devoid of Sophie's magic aura.

His face twisting in perplexity and thoroughly confused, Michael scratched the back of his head, a bad hobbit he took when he started mulling too much over a spell. He attempted to calm himself down, already feeling his heart beating faster in anxiety of what he doubted coming true. _Slow down, Michael! Think of what Master Howl always says: the cold, hard facts first, feelings second._

What _were _the facts? Well firstly, the castle was so dirtied up by the slime and the mist of materialized feelings it was almost a miracle no one had noticed it yet; the last slime attack had scared most of Market Chipping's inhabitants living close to the entrance. Secondly, Sophie was absent and Howl was a wreck. Thirdly, since Sophie was missing, _where. was. she?_

Speaking of her missing, wasn't she the reason Howl had slimed last time; about his hair resembling a pan of bacon and eggs? Michael could remember taking Sophie's wrinkled hand and rushing her outside before the slime attained her, and the old granny stood her ground; she took Howl's tantrum in stride, ignoring the childish wizard and concentrating on her task: to clean the castle. To Michael, it seemed like Howl's fit was only a mean of gaining the cleaning lady's attention, and when he had taken her outside, Howl's wails had also intensified…

Alright, Michael had the facts; now for the feelings!

The apprentice was aware his master loved Sophie more than anything; a proof of this was how Howl had reduced his time in the bathroom from two hours to one, and rarely, raaaaarely, half an hour. Michael also made a link between Howl's tantrum and Sophie; if she was there, Howl would stay calm and only slime; if she wasn't paying attention to him, the wizard would cry out harder, until she had enough and took care of his tantrum.

But the situation they were in was odd: Howl was having the biggest depression of his life and yet, Sophie wasn't here to handle him. _Why would she go out, anyways? All shops are closed, and it's pretty late…_

The young teen knew that whatever reason Sophie had to leave (buy groceries or spend time with her family), he trusted his caretaker to return to the castle; he knew she considered it like her second home, and Michael, Calcifer and Howl consisted of her family. But this was too strange; almost unreal.

_Wait a second, 'come back'?_

If Sophie stayed when Howl threw a tantrum; it was passable. If she didn't; it was horrible.

And if she never came back?

…

_!_

Michael, wanting to confirm his theory, yelled, "Calcifer! Don't you think something's weird?"

The fire demon only grunted (what was he doing?), before answering the kid in a gruff voice, "Of course something is amiss! A hack wizard covered in black slime and the castle a mess. Do you think Sophie would have stood that? If I was her I would have left long ago."

It clicked in Michael's mind.

"If Sophie left, and wasn't coming back…it would totally lead up to Master Howl's current condition!" he whispered shortly, his breath coming faster and faster. Oh no! They were coming true! His fears, his doubt that Sophie had willingly left; it was all too real!

"Calcifer!" he yelled, stomping down the stairs and barely able to catch his breath, jumping over the spots of slime and dodging the weird shadows by walking quickly on his toes, joining the fire demon and his dejected teacher. The bright flame opened an orange orb, eyeing Michael's out of breath form, and waited for the kid to finish his sentence. "I think–" inhale, "–that Sophie left for good! That's why Master Howl is so depressed."

Calcifer seemed to think of it, scanning the eerie room before nesting his form on Michael's warm shoulder, the only slime-free place in the area. "I think you're right kid…" he hissed lightly as he dodged a blob of slime falling from the ceiling, "but why would she leave for good?"

Clearly having not thought this one out, Michael responded sadly, "I've got no idea, Calcifer…"

The fire demon took this in consideration, brows furrowing to create the mask of a scowling face (although Michael believed it didn't suit him), before floating near Howl's flat form, "Listen, kid, we've got no idea why Sophie's gone, or where she is. As stubborn as she can be, I'm sure that even if we find her, she won't accept coming back to take care of the hack wizard." He pointed to said 'hack wizard' with his head, sticking out a tongue while he was at it. "So let's focus on your pathetic master and clean this mess, alright? Knowing him, he won't talk unless everything around is back to normal and we give him all our 'attention'."

Michael was sure that if Calcifer had fingers, he'd have done quotation marks on the word 'attention', which in itself would have been quite funny, and desperately trying to keep a straight (and he hoped grave-looking) face, Michael took Sophie's usual broom and cast some spells on the buckets and other mops to help him clean the mess. Meanwhile, Calcifer pulled out an old charm hanging in Howl's bedroom and fixed it on the ceiling, the little fan of the charm spinning furiously and absorbing slowly the dark mist.

After almost two hours of hard labor, it was over: the castle was clean as before.

Now, Calcifer and Michael had a bigger problem on their hands (their equals Michael's, again);

Rev Howl up.

..._x…_

Meanwhile, Sophie ran.

Far, long, hard.

Until she had no breath in her left.

She rested momentarily, and continued her way, her mind concentrated on two things:

One: get away from Howl;

Two: go see Martha (or Lettie, whoever was there first).

The streets were dark, gloomy. Upward, the moon hung high in the sky, with the stars as its company, and the white sphere had a certain shin, it lighted up some areas of the paved road, but it was still quite impossible to navigate your way through the sinuous paths if the street lights were not always on duty.

When one of them flickered back and forth, threatening to shut away their light and spreading their symptoms to other street lamps, Sophie stopped running and rested against its iron spindle, catching her breath slowly and rubbing furiously her eyes to erase all trace of tear tracks (after all, no one would look credible enough if one was still showing one's remaining tears). Albeit her eyes were still puffy and red and she was afraid her voice would crack under the whirlwind of feelings raging inside of her, Sophie managed to crack out a simple "Don't you or any of your comrade dare to fall asleep while someone's out on the road," and went on her way to Mrs. Fairfax.

She knew that each step she took hurt her even more, her heart breaking piece by piece, but Sophie refused to acknowledge what has been said and done until she was in a sure place, rested and calm. Right now, she felt so vulnerable she was afraid to spill out her heart to the first newcomer, and to make this impossible, she had cast a spell on herself (_"Now you listen, it's not because I've had a fight that you have to tell anyone what happened. Only Martha, Lettie, Michael and Calcifer will know of this if they ask me, not otherwise!"_)

Finally, after ages of walking at a brisk pace and turning and making sure she was not paranoid because she felt someone following her, Sophie arrived at Césari's. She looked at her reflection on the glass of a neighboring shop's door, arranging her wild hair, trying to dab the corner of her swollen red eyes, and took a few deep breaths to make her rosy cheeks turn paler, more healthy-like.

Afterwards, Sophie knocked gently on the door of Césari's, waiting for one of its employee to come and talk to her. To her joy, it was a fairly dark-haired girl with the customary plump salmon dress of Césari's who came to answer her.

Martha.

When she looked through the glass, Martha found her oldest sister waiting there, looking tired and her appearance dishevelled. Nonetheless, she opened the door and grabbing Sophie's wrist, made her way through the café, climbing the stairs and taking a sharp turn to the left, going inside a room where all employees took a break whenever it was their turn.

The place was fairly cosy, albeit not as much as Mrs. Fairfax's house. The walls were curved, giving the piece a circular form, and were covered in a light blue material, its softness akin to cotton. In front of the threshold where Sophie and Martha had come in, there was a large French window, half of it opened to freshen up the air with the nightly breeze blowing, and its curtains floated to its rhythm, their green shade disappearing behind creases. Five high backed chairs stood in front of the window, blocking its view, and just in front of them was positioned a long couch, crème-colored. When she sat on the soft cushions, Sophie noted many trinkets scattered there and there, cluttering the room and giving the place a familiar and warm atmosphere.

_Just like Howl's castle, _Sophie thought absentmindedly. Then, her whole body stiffened in shock and tears began bubbling up, her eyes stinging and her throat closing so tightly it was painful. Martha, who had noticed her sister's changing demeanour, asked her softly "What's wrong?" before Sophie crumbled down, crying softly in her hands. Greatly surprised at Sophie's open emotion and vulnerability, Martha only brought her oldest sister into a comforting embrace, smoothing her hair and rocking back and forth, making a shushing sound, just like a mother cooing at her child softly.

Time ticked by, slowly but surely, and certainly, Sophie's sob subsided, leaving place for a very tired young girl, who had rejected the love of her life to ensure his happiness and broken her own heart at the same time.

Even though she felt it wasn't fair for her to ask Sophie about her situation, due to her current vulnerability, Martha was deeply concerned. She had never seen her sister act like this; so sorrowful and tired. Just about a fortnight ago she respired of joy and life and now, Sophie had cried her troubles out!

"Sophie? Sophie…what happened? And don't tell me it's nothing! It's just like that business of you being the eldest of three and being doomed to failure; absolute nonsense!" she proclaimed when Sophie sat up, taking a handkerchief from her outstretched hand and blowing her nose quite loudly, making it go red. Sophie got up, still sniffing, and turned to her little sister, "I'm going to the bathroom, I'll come back in a second, okay?" She gave a shaky smile, and turned her back on Martha, going for the aforementioned bathroom.

Martha heard the water running from the faucet for a few minutes, and when it was closed, her sister came back, her face its usual rosy tint (and not as red as she was when she had stopped crying), red-gold hair tamed into a long plait, but still splashed with strands of gray, the ends being trifled with by Sophie's slightly wrinkled hands, a sign of her nervousness; just like Martha twiddling her thumbs when she was saying the truth.

Sophie sat down beside her little sister, her stare focusing on her dainty slippered feet, and murmured gently, "I'm sorry I worried you Martha, it's just that I don't feel okay today…"

Césari's most popular employee frowned in disbelief, her eyes clearly saying she didn't t trust her words. "It's not only today, Sophie. You've been down for the past two weeks." At her sister's incredulous gaze, she added, "Oh, please! You really think Lettie, mother and I wouldn't have noticed all those wrinkles on you, or your hair, or your eyes? They're the worst, you know? All dim and lifeless." She crossed her arms in a sign of defiance. She was _not_ going to let her older sister be sad anymore; if Sophie couldn't handle her own happiness by herself, than Martha would be glad to be of help.

Sophie held her staring contest with her little sister, before she relinquished the victory, and spoke wearily, "Martha… I–I don't know how to explain this! It's just so…complicated?" Her sentence had ended with a slight squeak.

Martha sighed. "Usually it's simple; you're making things complicated, Sophie." At her sister's lack of reaction, she continued, "Why don't you tell me what happened today? They say that if you can't explain something to someone else, then you don't understand it yourself."

And Sophie did. She related what happened that very evening, speaking of her long-growing frustration at Howl's childliness and obliviousness to her feelings, how she felt she was imposing her love on him and pushing him to give her the happily ever after he promised her, and how she avoided him to clear her mind and to not make a hasty decision.

"And yet, it _was _a hasty and rash decision to let the anger get a hold of yourself," Martha had accused, but not with viciousness, when Sophie got to the part where they bickered.

"But… we _never _argued this harshly! Even if it was about the Witch or anything, I've never been so angry at anyone this much, Martha."

"So you're scared because you feel your emotions too strongly?"

Sophie was speechless.

"Listen, Sophie, I know you love Howl–"that elicited a blush from the eldest Hatter, "–but there's nothing you should be afraid of. That man loves _you _more than anyone else would ever be able to. I know he has a weird way of showing he cares, but trust me when I say this; Howl Pendragons, Jenkins, whatever his last name is nowadays, _is_ a coward. And not because he's too chicken too reject you," she had added when Sophie opened her mouth to protest.

"But because he's still a man with the mentality of a child, who thinks that if he makes you happy, he'll be happy."

"That's how he believes love goes."

"Doesn't it, Sophie?" she ended her tirade with a question.

Sophie looked down, pondering the smallest Hatter's words. It was true; Howl was the worst man in the world when it came to confrontations: at the slightest sight of a fight, he slithered out of it. But as far as Sophie could remember, she had never seen him truly angry at anyone. He was one of the most forgiving persons she knew, but he acted just like a child, starving for attention and praise, and yet still afraid of much in the world.

She had been scared of losing him; of molding his personality and his traits into the Prince Charming all girls had once dreamed of. Sophie was frightened that if she nudged him, showed him too much of her love or devotion, he'd start changing to make her happy, because he felt he owed it to her.

She didn't want that kind of man; the one who became another to fit her taste.

Sophie wanted Howl to stay the same; the arrogant, yet lovable, childish and selfish, albeit considerate and egocentric wizard. She wanted him to be free, but still show him he was capable of something as scary as love without him needing to shy away from his feelings.

She wanted to love him, without Howl running away from the new experience, those new sentiments her devotion could bring out of him.

In fact, the more she thought of this, the more Sophie figured out what truly spooked her.

She wasn't afraid of stifling Howl's freedom and making him unhappy; no one would ever be able to take this away from him, be it the King, the Witch of the Waste, or worse, Mrs. Penstemmon.

_She was afraid of rejection._

Sophie had started loving Howl so much; she began doubting her worth in his life. She had been scared that Howl's reputation was not a rumor only, even though he had reassured her countless times (with Calcifer's help) that even though a rumor began from something true spiraling out of order, the only reason Howl chased girls was because he hoped he could find someone who could complete him the way only she did.

In the beginning, Sophie compared herself to those pretty princesses of fairy tales, who found true love and lived happily ever after.

But she forgot the most important fact in those stories: the princes were _bland, unoriginal._

The reason it was made this way was to inspire young girls to become elegant, yet strong and independent women. In the case of the princes, they were given no personality to let those same young girls dream freely for _the one_; the man who would come and sweep them off their feet (literally or not), the one who could complete them and make them totally and utterly happy.

Previously, Sophie had noted only two resemblances between herself and the fairy tales princesses: their job as a cleaning lady and their love for their Romeo.

And she forgot to note also one more different aspect: unlike the princesses, Sophie was deadly scared of embracing her feelings.

The fear of rejection brought the fear of embracing her feelings, which in turn brought up more doubts as to her usefulness in Howl's happiness and freedom and her own beauty (after all, it was said a girl in love was always shining, and she looked prettier to all guys). Those feelings turned to bitterness, then acceptance, as Sophie distanced herself from Howl little by little to think clearly of her situation and the necessity of her presence in his life.

And she had blamed Howl for her own insecurities.

_!_

Awareness seemed to have dawned on her face as Martha gave a triumphing 'humph', as if saying, "You _finally _understand!"

"Knowing you, you're probably feeling guilty over that bicker, don't you?" she began lightly, "But you should take it easy, Sophie. It's only been, what?, about two to three hours since you came here. Come on, you Mad Hatter, let's go to sleep, I'm totally zapped right now."

Sophie nodded, and her heart felt lighter than before, now aware of its doubts and knowing what she had to do to crush them. She felt calmer and wiser, and she mostly got over her anger at Howl, since she hated being angry at anyone for long. But as a stubborn being, she would not come back to the wizard: she indeed felt guilty, but presumed that it was too bad if he didn't learn how much she loved him because he passed the chance to ask her.

If Howl truly wanted of her love, then _he _had to make the first move.

…_x…_

"Come _on_, you hack wizard! And you call yourself a man? Liven up already! We haven't survived the Witch of the Waste and regained your heart so that you'd let it break so easily! _Get up, Howl!_"

This was the kind of sentence Calcifer and Michael had subjected Howl to. Ever since the cleaning was over, Michael slipped white, latex gloves (there was _no _way in the world he was touching this…this…_this black slime,_ whatever it was!) over his hand and gripping his teacher by the shoulders, he shook him hard, trying to knock some sense back into the dejected wizard. Behind him, Calcifer was trying to stimulate the akin-to-dead man by hurling jokes after insults after spells.

But nothing worked.

Some slime oozed out of Howl's skin pores, and with a groan, Michael fell back on his backside, crawling away from the dark blobby mixture. "Ugh, this would be so much easier if Sophie was there," he moaned, shooting an exasperated look at Calcifer and sticking out his lower lip, blowing air upwards to move his hair out of his eyes.

And the slime stopped oozing.

One of Calcifer's eyebrows moved up inquiringly, an idea sprouting in his mind. He leered disproportionately, singing out, "Oh, I'm sure if _Sophie _was here this place would be proper tidy."

_twitch_

Michael was confused, "Euh, Cal? Why did you stretch Sophie's name?"

_twitch_

"Oh, just felt like saying 'Sophie' that way, why?"

_twitch_

"It's weird. Anyways, why are we talking about Sophie?"

_twitch_

"Soooooooophie?"

Calcifer grinned widely, "Bingo!" he mouthed at the apprentice. It seemed nudging Howl with the word Sophie had its effect, as the depressed wizard whispered her name softly, so low Calcifer and Michael had almost missed it.

The fire demon floated near the man's face, before head-butting him, hard. "Welcome back to the living, vain wizard."

Howl lifted his face off from his hands, and his eyes were rimmed with red, streaks of scarlet spreading in little strings. His nose was red and his voice was hoarse and faint from all the crying. Howl's cheeks were also a red tint, but it made the overall look more miserable. He straightened up slowly, until he was sitting in a passable position, not hunched over his knees anymore, and he sniffed lightly two or three times, still fixing the floor intently.

It was weird for Calcifer to see the usually so proud and composed wizard falling apart so easily. The Howl he knew and cohabited with for the past years would have rushed straight for the bathroom and locked himself in for a minimum of three hours.

And he wouldn't have broken down because of a woman!

Unlike his past-self, this Howl stayed silent, sniffing from times to times and seemingly unbothered by the dark slime he created. He looked even more miserable than a man who had lost his heart.

"Go get up and take a bath, would you? You stink!" the fire demon began, scrunching up his nose in an effect of disgust to push the wizard to comply. "Besides, if you want to see Sophie, you are _not_ going out of here looking like this." Calcifer shot a meaningful look at the apprentice, signaling him silently to take the wizard up the stairs and bath him forcefully, even if he had his clothes on. It would serve him to lose part of his precious wardrobe for letting himself in this situation.

Michael nodded, and just before he took his limp teacher by the arm, he luckily remembered to pinch his nose with a laundry plier. Then, he proceeded to carry the older man up the stairs and shoved him in the bathtub, yelling for Calcifer to heat the water.

"I can't believe I'm doing this willingly," the demon muttered back in response, settling himself in his hearth and executing one of the many tasks he had come to hate when he was under the contract with Howl.

About forty minutes later, Michael came down, and having cleaned up the remaining slime and thrown it outside in the Wastes ("I'm sure creepy flowers just _love_ dark, stinky wizard slime"), Howl followed him shortly, having changed into a pair of dark pants and gray tunic, held loosely by a navy belt around his waist. He appeared gloomy, even more than after Mrs. Penstemmon's death. The wizard sat down on his favorite high backed chair, just in front of Calcifer's hearth, almost mechanically, but his eyes stayed downcast, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Meanwhile, Michael sat on the kitchen table, eating absentmindedly some cheese and bread (just like old times) and waiting for the dram to unfurl.

"So," the flame demon began drawling out, lazily reaching for a log close by, "Do you mind telling us what happened here or do I bother asking for Sophie's version first?"

No answer.

But Calcifer knew that Howl was trying to escape from this questioning by giving them a silent treatment. And to this game of silence and patience; fire demons were king.

It was silent in the castle, the occasional creaks breaking the tense atmosphere. Some metal rods rubbed together, giving birth to eerie squeaks, but nothing deterred Mister Silence from winning the night over. Until–

"We fought."

Calcifer rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I _don't _know, not otherwise." He was nested comfortably in his wooden fortress, orange orbs shining brightly in the dark. Tired and weary that the forthcoming conversation would be long and late, Michael had long retired to bed. Right now, it was Howl and Calcifer.

And other nightly creatures croaking and crawing outside who we won't bother describing (quota of words and such…).

"She was ignoring me, and it hurt."

"Huh-huh."

"I asked her what was wrong."

"Hmmmm?"

"And it ended up with me saying she didn't care about me."

"And?"

"She said she didn't want to smother me because she cared too much and she left."

His voice cracked on the last word.

Calcifer sighed. _Human feelings can be such a bother at times, especially when it concerns these two._ "Listen here, Howl. From what I get, Sophie left because she was afraid of stifling your freedom. You know how much this means to both of us, don't you?" At Howl's feeble nod, he continued, "But that doesn't mean she doesn't care for you."

"How would you know? I thought fire demons didn't have the same feelings as we do," was Howl's miserable and accusing reply.

"Simple enough: I spent five years of my life with your heart corrupting me. Not in the sense of Miss Angorian and the Witch, but in the sense that I'm more aware of human feelings than before. It's just that fire demons don't feel as strongly as humans."

"Now Howl, I'm going to ask you _one _last question and I want you to be true to yourself: be selfish and think of what _you_ want, not of the consequences or if it may fail because of this or that."

"What do you want to do about Sophie?"

Sophie… he missed her. True, they had fought like crazy, letting their bottled ill feelings get the better of them both, but right now, since he had cooled down significantly, Howl felt empty.

Just like before.

He could recall the first time he met her, in that alley when she tried to blend in the threshold of a shop and tightening her gray shawl around her in an attempt of fleeing his attention. He didn't know why, but his heart had fluttered (well, he didn't know, but he could feel the magic contract between him and Calcifer shift, as if a piece moved back in the jigsaw puzzle that was the curse the Witch cast on him and the contract he was involved in). He tried to hold her hand, just to confirm that this shift he felt was nothing more but a coincidence, but she had run away from him and blended into the crowd before he could slip a finger around her slender wrist.

And he was cold once more.

When Howl met Lettie, he thought of her as familiar. Why, he had not the slightest idea, but she reminded him of someone (of a little gray mouse…maybe?). Then, after the whirlwind of Grandma Sophie stormed in his castle, Howl made the link:

Grandma Sophie equals little gray mouse equals Lettie's missing sister.

What a coincidence!

During those days, Howl felt the prick of the Witch's curse on Sophie, taunting him and teasing him. _See the one who's right for you unable to become more than an old, busybody crone. _Many times the talented wizard had tried to take off the spell, but the more he tried, the tighter the net of magic surrounded Sophie. It seemed like she was retaining it herself, not even bothering to fight against the thread suffocating her younger self.

But Sophie's appearance did not matter to Howl, for some weird reason.

He could feel it, in every banter, every tantrum and every chide she gave at him. When she probed at his past, snooped in his stuff (like the window to Wales), and even did crazy things like rearranging his potions and standing tall and proud to Mrs. Penstemmon or the King and even the Witch:

Sophie was beautiful, on the outside and the inside.

She could give away everything she had to help someone else in trouble, even if it was a vain man like him. No matter his eccentricities or his fits, Sophie always stayed by his side, loyal, kind and dutiful, and put him in his rightful place, unbothered by the consequences. When her botched up plans at making things right happened, Sophie wasn't deterred.

Instead, she went on with her life and confronted what was wrong.

She was his total opposite: she wasn't vain, stood her ground against adversity and spoke her mind easily, not bothering with flowery and sugary words, twisting and coiling around until the sentence didn't have a meaning anymore.

Just like he was an arrow, straight and vain and free, Sophie was the bow; sturdy, trustworthy, dedicated and gentle.

They were the perfect match.

Well, that was what Howl felt.

He could remember the flabbergasted look on her face when he came to rescue her from the Witch's trap, unshaven and hair unruly, unlike his usual self. He could still picture the rosy tint of her cheeks, which had miraculously been cured of their wrinkles for a moment, letting out Sophie's exterior beauty.

And he had confessed to her at that moment.

It was a roundabout confession, and he knew it mean the Witch's curse finally coming true, but Howl was done caring for that old bat. He wanted to be free of her pressure, not having her constant presence bothering him and nagging him in the back of his mind.

After all, as long as he had Sophie, he was complete and safe.

Nobody would be able to win against him, fuelled by another desire, stronger than his slither outing, stronger than any spell or potion, the most complicated sentiment and wonderful warm and fuzzy feeling coursing through his every member, to the tip of his finger to the empty hole where his heart once lived.

Nothing could win against love (as cliché as this sounds).

He trusted her so much, and loved her so deeply; it scared the vanity out of him. He left Calcifer and the castle in her hands as the Witch grasped his heart, and the only thought on his mind was a spell to protect his Sophie.

And everything went black.

When he came to, he recalled a heavy rock on his chest, crushing and suffocating. But then, Sophie was by his side, looking young and radiant and absolutely beaming and the pain disappeared gradually, leaving place to a warm flutter, even as he took her hand and smiled like a high school boy crazy in love, proudly announcing that they 'ought to live happily ever after.'

And everything was happy and dandy, until that ugly fight roaring loudly and demanding to go on and on and on.

And he had hurt his precious Sophie, soft droplets of water falling miserably from her eyes.

He couldn't put into words how much he loathed himself at that moment. How much he wished he could curl into a miserable puddle of goo and be swept off and disappear forever. He was shocked and hurt: how could he have made Sophie cry?

At that single moment, Howl felt like the lowest rat in the whole universe.

Heck, even that was insulting to the rat itself.

And he had fallen down, letting his anguish and hurt and sorrow take a hold of his body and materialize into existence under the form of that thick mist and black jelly slime.

He could only think of Sophie, her tears, her hurt voice, the pain, and

_the emptiness._

As soon as she left, he wanted her back. He started missing her so badly he was afraid his heart would leave on its own and run after Sophie. Even after Michael and Calcifer came back, Howl could only feel his heart tightening painfully into a knot, twisting and shifting and wailing for its other half to come back, to nurse him back to health.

And every time he thought of her, he remembered how kind and gentle and dutiful Sophie had left him all alone to his sadness.

He was stuck in a vicious circle.

Howl had recalled, at one moment, Calcifer and Michael talking about Sophie, catching only glimpses of their sentences and her beautiful name. He had hoped she was back and they were talking to her or about her (if she had gone to bed), and he whispered miserably and softly her name, wishing she would hear him and come and hug him and comfort him and his sad heart.

But she wasn't there.

Only Cal and his apprentice.

He was wallowing in self-pity, so hard and strongly, even he felt Michael had trouble dragging him up the stairs for a bath. At that time, Michael had only thrown him a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap, and told him in a stern voice, "Master Howl, you're not a kid for me to bath. Take care of yourself, you're a man, aren't you?" and he had left like that, closing the door behind him.

And so, Howl bathed, his mind strangely blank and devoid of thoughts.

He came down the stairs, freshly changed, and reluctantly gave in to Calcifer's accusing stare, breaking down pieces by pieces what had happened between him and Sophie.

And when Calcifer had asked him what he wanted to do about Sophie, only one thing run through its mind.

_I want to see her._

It was true; he missed her badly. He wanted to see her, and apologize for hurting her so badly, for making her cry. When Cal had said 'don't care about the consequences', he had meant for Howl to not bother himself with unnecessary thoughts such as, 'Does she hate me? Would she willingly see me?' and others of the same sense.

Howl wanted to be selfish one last time and see his Sophie, even for a moment, for a second; for a heartbeat.

He muttered his wish lowly, gravely, and when Calcifer caught wind of it, he cackled, "There, see? You know what you want. Now go to sleep and rest. We'll look for Sophie tomorrow. Oh, she's _fine_, you moron! Probably at her sister's or Mrs. Fairfax's," he had added at Howl's worried gaze.

Howl reluctantly went up the stairs, haunted by the thought of seeing Sophie so soon after their fight, but he slept a dreamless night, blank and empty.

…_x…_

In the morning, a shadowed figure was walking at a brisk pace. He was tall and lean, and dressed modestly; dark pants, and a loose gray and blue suit over his billowy white shirt, going along quite well with his fairly light countenance, which complemented his flaxen hair.

The figure walked and walked, restlessness growing steadily inside of him. He turned alley after alley, the sunlight giving him some help into finding his way (not that he needed it after all). He dodged shabby men and drunkards falling into his way, and his shortcut soon lead him to a little house, hiding part of a huge field of flowers.

The figure could heart the bees buzzing frantically, already up and ready to confront another warm day in Ingary, and the man came to a halt in front of the door. He gulped, but brought a slightly shaky hand up to knock three times softly over the wooden entrance.

After moments, a fairly old little lady came to open the door. Her gray hair was put up in a high bun, but her face hadn't the severe and pinched look of those old housekeepers. Hers was kind and inviting, just like a grandmother's. She was wearing a modest honey-colored dress and when she saw the figure she had opened her house to, her face lighted up slightly, eyes twinkling in secret.

"My, it's not every day you come to visit me, Howl. Come in, come in, I was preparing the morning tea," she had pleasantly begun. Awkwardly, Howl was ushered inside and forcefully sat down on Mrs. Faifax's couch, in her living room. And waiting there was Howl's worst nightmare.

Lettie.

_Of all people_, he winced inwardly, cursing his supposedly great luck as the youngest of the family.

Howl expected Sophie's younger sister to be cross at him, or pissed off. He thought she'd accuse him of not taking good care of Sophie and making her cry, but there was nothing.

"Morning," she only muttered, sipping gently her tea. _What's with Mrs. Fairfax's house? Does it bewitch every Hatter into drinking tea?_ were thefirst thoughts clicking through Howl's mind. "Aren't you mad at me?"

She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, and answered calmly, "To be honest, I'm majorly pissed off at you. But I assume that you have a good reason for coming here so early in the morning, and I'm willing to hear your explanation."

She stared at him directly in the eyes, a glare which promised pain if he did not say the truth (and Howl had half the mind to believe she'd actually win, as he did not wish to fight a woman, even if she was trained by Wizard Sulliman).

"You have three sentences to explain yourself."

Three senten–what?

Oh great, this starts well the morning.

As Howl was about to open his mouth, he was saved by Mrs. Fairfax's return. She sat down by Lettie's side and calmly said, "Now, now, children. There's no need to fight."

She turned to the man and addressed him politely, "Seeing Sophie yesterday, I take it you're here to apologize, boy." As he nodded, she smiled, and moved her head toward the window, its view on her flowery fields. "She's woken up early to bring those flowers, but she has a sad aura all over her. She gets guilty really easily."

Howl looked down at his fisted hands over his knees. "You better make my sister happy, Howl, or you can be sure that you'll have three Mad Hatters, a Royal Wizard and an angry old witch on your hands," Lettie spoke.

He grinned sardonically, "And don't forget to add a fire demon and a fisherman."

"Them too," she answered. "Now go talk to my stubborn sister, would you? And try to not shove your foot in your mouth."

He went and just as he was about to pass the threshold, he turned around and bowed, "Then I'm off."

Howl took his time getting to Sophie. He wanted to prepare what he was going to say to her, and he tried to delay the confrontation the most possible. When he looked at her, she seemed better than before. Her hair had returned to their flaming glory and was tamed into a long braid, the straw sunhat she wore protecting her face, but some freckles spreading around her nose. When she stood up, some flowers in her hands and the shears in the others, he noticed her back was straighter.

_At least her curse is gone,_ he mused.

Sophie's back faced him, and so he sneaked up on her, until he was about two meters behind her. Then, he called out softly yet firmly, "Sophie."

She stiffened, standing straightly even more. She turned around, facing him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, and just as Mrs. Fairfax had said, there was quite a certain sadness hanging on her face. She just stood there, before deposing her flowers and shears on a blanket by her side and stepping away from him, towards the house.

Before she could bypass him, Howl stepped in front of her and slid gently and loosely his fingers around her wrists, whispering, "Sophie, wait, please. Sophie!" Her eyes were still downcast, but it seemed he had her attention. Not pushing his luck, Howl only stayed there, feeling lost.

He had prepared a whole and complete apology before, but now that Sophie was in front of him, warm and tangent and flower-scented, he was half-tempted to engulf her in his arms and half-tempted to start crying and tell her how much he missed her and wanted her to look at him and give him part of the devotion she had, just like before.

His throat had closed up and his lips were dry, drier than his mouth. Not wanting to stay inactive, Howl slowly slipped his hands down to grasp hers, soft yet firm with work. He squeezed her fingers and felt her heart beat faster, as fast as his.

"Sophie," he breathed, "I–I don't know where to start."

She only looked down, her straw sunhat blocking his view of her pretty face. As such, he took the cap and put it on his own head, feeling quite silly after he had done this. Sophie didn't budge, but he could feel the tension leave her, and since she appeared calmer, Howl allowed himself the privilege of resting his chin on the top of her head, closing the gap between them.

His hands rested on her back, and Howl noted how small Sophie actually was in comparison to him. Her head barely got to his Adam apple and she was much less solid than he had once thought. She was a fragile creature, and he wanted to protect her from all dangers.

Even form his harsh words.

"Yesterday…I…I lost control. I was hurt," he began tentatively, trying to shape a one-sided conversation. "I know I wasn't there enough for you and I should have, and you were right; I'm not home often enough."

There, he had admitted part of what he had meant to say. It was hard for him to admit he was wrong, as proud and stubborn Howl was, but he did it. Sophie seemed to be taking his words in, as if she was waiting for more.

"I missed you though. Every time I came back I was looking out for you. I always loved how you'd greet me with a smile, it made me feel all warm inside. And when you began ignoring me when I came home, I felt sad." There, he was beginning to pour out his heart.

"I thought that maybe it was an aftereffect of the Witch's curse and I believed you'd pull through it, because you're strong and confident, but then I realized the spell was starting to get its toll on you because you were wrinkling and aging."

"And when I accused you of snooping and caring conveniently; I was lying. I–I actually like it when you do that because I have all your attention and…"

"At those moments I'm the only one in your eyes."

His grip had strengthened, until Sophie's face was nestled in his neck while his own was nuzzling her hair. Howl's heart had started beating uncontrollably and uncomfortably fast, but he still rambled on, needing to tell her two important things.

"I know this is not the best situation in the world: I missed a heart for about five years and became quite insensible towards other's feelings. But can you trust me when I tell you that I'm sorry for hurting you, Sophie?"

And in a mere whisper, he muttered in her hair, "I love you."

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. Had she heard correctly?

He loved her.

And here shad fought with him yesterday because she felt she was imposing _her _love on him, only to discover he wanted it just as much as she wanted his.

It was all so ironical.

Sophie's shoulder began shaking, and as soon as Howl felt them, he let go of her and lifted her face with a long and slender finger. He found tears in her eyes, but this time, he knew how to handle the salty droplets. With his thumbs, he rubbed the skin just under her eyes, erasing her tears and stroking tenderly her cheeks. He stayed silent, feeling as if Sophie was going to start speaking as soon as she was done weeping silently.

"I–I believed you didn't love me back," she hiccupped softly, her hands grabbing Howl's suit so tightly her knuckles were sheet white. "And I figured…you didn't need me, because you're free."

He frowned, but let her go on.

"And…I wanted you to be happy…even if it meant me never telling you I love you. I was _so _scared you'd reject me and…"

"I think I just blamed you for me being in love and scaring me with those weird feelings."

Always placing others before her, wasn't she? Howl smiled softly, and hugged her once again. "Just so you won't doubt yourself or anything, I'll say it once more."

"I love you, Sophie."

She stifled her crying by shoving her face in his shirt, while Howl stroked her back with his hands, hushing her gently. When her sobs had subsided, they stayed in each other's embrace, until Sophie muttered something abruptly into his shirt.

"What did you say, cariad?" Howl asked, not having heard what she said.

Sophie lifted her head, giggling lightly, "I compared myself to a fairy tale princess, you know, because all girls do that when they're young and because they're pretty. I just thought that unlike all the princes, you were pretty unconventional!"

He snickered at her childlike eyes, "And what does _that_ mean?"

She smirked, "It means straw sunhats look horribly dashing on you, Howl."

Confound that woman, here he had confessed to her nicely and directly and she was already mocking him! Howl took the sunhat off his head and placed it back on her red-gold hair before turning around and stomping his way back to Mrs. Fairfax's house with a pout on his face. Sophie only laughed merrily and chased after him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"You still have this suit? I thought you said you wouldn't wear it anymore?" she complained teasingly. Howl only looked back at her and mumbled, "If it were of you, I wouldn't have any clothes to wear anymore, woman," but still held her hand tightly, to make sure she would not slip between his fingers anymore.

His heartbeat slowed down to a more natural rhythm, synchronized with hers, and Howl felt happy:

He had found his Sophie again, and she was giving him all her attention.

…_x…_

_We have our doubts, everyone does;_

_But it only takes a sentence from a loved one to dissipate them all._

…_x…_

Howl and Sophie entered Mrs. Fairfax's house in happy mood. That was what Lettie noticed first. Then, she noted their joined hands, Sophie's beaming smile and Howl's soft gaze on her and the younger Hatter decided that maybe for once, the wizard managed to handle his feelings and not act as the cowardly man he once used to be.

Mrs. Fairfax seemed to share her thoughts, as she brought a bowl of strawberries, jam and toast, two pitchers of coffee and milk and of course, her customary kettle. She twirled her finger in the air and four cups followed, almost dancing in the air to a silent melody before coming to rest on the table.

"Well, I suppose no one had breakfast yet, so please have your fill."

And they did, filling their stomachs with good food and a nice coffee. Occasionally, Lettie had to turn her head away from the sight of her sister and her beau acting all lovey-dovey ("I prefer my strawberries sweet with sugar."

"There's no helping it, Howl. Mrs. Fairfax always uses honey."

"Well I guess I'll content myself with what I have."

And he pressed his lips to hers scarlet ones; tasting the sweet honey Sophie had applied on the strawberries she just ate. She laughed at his antic, and kissed him back for a second before she pushed him away, aware it could make things go awkward if it were anyone else but Lettie and Mrs. Fairfax.), but all in all;

the day started well.

…_x…_

When Howl and Sophie returned to the castle, the former promising solemnly he would never hurt Sophie like this again before abandoning all his good-looks forever (which earned him a jab in the ribs from his beloved), they were greeted by a walking-dead Michael and a sleeping fire demon.

Looking knowingly at each other, they both agreed that today, it'd be best if the shop was left closed and if they spent the day together.

…_x…_

After enjoying their day immensely, there was only one little problem left.

Sleeping arrangements.

At first, Sophie changed into a nightgown and went to the mattress in front of the hearth when Howl called her out, his face appearing from the stairways and head tilted sideways, a quizzical look on his countenance.

"Sophie, dear? What are you doing?"

She responded innocently, her legs already covered by the blanket, "I'm going to sleep. Why?"

He looked at her up and down, and proclaimed like a child, "But there's nothing keeping you from sleeping with me, though."

Inwardly, Howl enjoyed how her face lit up like a flame, her incredulous wide-eyed stare on him. He was mentally smirking, already having predicted how she'd react, but managed to keep the innocent look of a baby on his face to fool her. She really had cute reactions, sometimes, but maybe his Sophie wasn't _this_ innocent.

At least she knew the other meaning of 'sleeping with someone'.

She began stammering; holding up her hands and waving them around as she explained to him how improper it'd be if they went and _…_ as they were still unmarried and how it was not well-seen for a woman to give in before marriage.

Howl feigned a bored yet tired look on his face. "What I call 'sleeping together' means 'sharing a bed', not anything else." _For now, _he added mentally, slapping away and shoving down a thought that would have earned him the qualification of 'pervert'.

Sophie seemed to calm down, exhaling deeply in a relieved sigh, before she got up and looked back at the mattress reluctantly, saying, "But…I…guess…it's fine?" She ended up saying her sentence as a question, her voice squeaking on the last words. Howl's face lit up, bouncing down the stairs and grasping her hand to lead her to their (their!) room.

There, he nestled himself comfortably in the warm blankets, wrapping his arms around Sophie's small form and playing with loose strands of flaming hair. They talked on small and trivial matters before sleep began conquering their bodies.

Both managed to kiss each other good night and wish it aloud, and soon, they were out like a light.

And their hearts were not broken anymore.

They were whole, just as the last time they shared their bed together.

But this time, Howl and Sophie were happier.

…_x…_

_If you answer yes to the question: do we stand by their side?_

_And if your cherished one tells you how much he or she can love you;_

_Then all your doubts have long disappeared._

_I had once thought he needn't my love;_

_But I didn't realize how much we were both starved for each other's devotion._

_We're both free, yet selfish people._

"Yet we're both living happily ever after."

* * *

_It's dooooooooooone. Over. Owari. Finis. _

_Compleeeeeeeeteeee! Yéééééééé!_

_Oh my god (sorry if this offends anyone), I spent so much time on this 13k words monster, but it's aliiive, ALIVE YOU HEAR?_

_P.S: if would mean A LOT to me if you could review this before you left, even a short one. Because I spent the last 3. frigging. days doing this and I really, and I mean, reaaaaaly, want to hear what you think of my longest story ever yet._

_But besides that, let me explain how it came to: originally, this was supposed to be part of In Which Howl Gets to Sophie's Heart and be separed in two chapters. But the more I wrote, the more I felt like it'd feel better to detach it from that fic and let it standalone on its 13k words glory, which I did. I have replaced the In Which How Gets to Sophie's Heart, Chapter 5: Don't Force Her, Version 2: Book-verse by another little fic of around 1,000 words, where Howl is ill and Sophie takes care of him. :)_

_Anyways, besides that, random fact of the day: I've been ill for the past 3 days, and my mother noticed the sky's been gray as well for the past three days. I told her that as soon as I got better, the sun'd come out, and guess what? IT CAME!_

_I HAVE MIRACULOUS AND SUBCONSCIOUS POWERS OF TELEKINESIS AND PREDICTION OF THE FUTURE! _

_Anyways, I hope to see you guys back in In Which Howl Gets to Sophie's Heart (*shameless advertisement* *bows head shamefully*)_

_I SHALL NEVER REGRET SHAMELESSLY ADVERTISING MY FICLETS, MUAHAHHAHAHA-HAHA-HA *Cough*_

_Ahem!_

_Well, this seems to be this. I've been writing this huge creature, instead of doing my science and history projects (SCHOOL! Y u give us projects during HOLI-DAYS?)_

_Ohh, see what I did there? _

_Holidays - holy + days, so a holiday is a holy day._

_See what I did? SEE? (*accusating stare*)_

_But now, I'm gonna concentrate on my school-free week ('Dobby is a free elf, Dobby is free!') and HAVE. FUN._

_Yihaaah!_

_Oh, and can anyone spot Ni No Kuni's Drippy (or Shizuku in Japanese) reference?_

_(it's when Calcifer says Sophie keeps the place **tidy**)_

_Anyways, I'm done here. (*nothing to do here*)_

_Bye-byyyyyye. :)_

_'Melia, sleeping..._

_zzzzzzz_


End file.
